It Feels Like Home
by courtster87
Summary: Moving on without Finn in her life is the hardest thing Rachel Berry has ever had to do. The last person she expected to be there for her, ends up being the person she can count on the most. Eventual Schueberry. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH in the first chapter. *I do not own GLEE or any of its characters, they belong to Ryan Murphy. Let this be my disclaimer*
1. Chapter 1 - Gone Too Soon

When Finn hadn't shown up for Glee rehearsal that afternoon, Will had thought maybe he'd changed his mind about helping out in exchange for college credits. After the last of his students left the choir room, he pulled his phone out of his pocked to double-check for a missed call or text message stating this.

It wasn't like him to not let him know of his absence. He sent a simple text to his graduated student.

**We all missed you in Glee Club today. Hope everything's okay?**

He slid his phone back into his pocket and sighed. He truly hoped everything was all right; he had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite place.

XXX

Rachel had put a pot of water on the stove to boil.

Taking the cell phone off the counter, she hovered over Finn's number. She wanted to tell him of her callback, but there was someone else she had to call first.

She took the now whistling red teapot off the stove, pouring its contents into her travel mug, holding her phone to her ear.

The sound of his voice instantly excited her, but also made her feel a little homesick. She realized that she missed him more than she thought she did.

"Hey Mr. Schue, its Rachel; how are you?"

"Rachel, hey!" he said excitedly as he heard his former student on the other end of the line. He put his lunch bag in the teacher's lounge refrigerator, saving it for later that afternoon. "Good—just getting ready for _Regionals_."

"Well, I wanted you to be the first that I told, even before Kurt, before my dads or even before Finn, that I had my callback for Funny Girl this morning—"

"Wait," he shouted slamming the door to the fridge, after removing a small carton of milk. "Did you get Fanny Brice?"

All the educators in the room looked up at the volume change in the teacher's voice. He didn't seem to notice or care, he was so proud of her.

"Not yet," she said, barely able to contain her shriek, "but it's between me and two other girls!"

"Oh, that is _incredible_ news, Rachel; you're a shoe in."

"Well, I just want you to know that if it does happen, it's because of you."

"Well, if I contributed, even a little bit."

"You contributed more than a little. I sang _Don't Stop Believing _for my audition and when I sang it, I thought about that first week we were all in Glee Club and how amazing we all were together. And it just brought back so many emotions, it made my performance so powerful. Well, you were the one who put that all together, so—"

She could hear what sounded like sniffling on the other line; he was crying.

"You okay Mr. Schue?"

"Yeah, fine—just allergies."

She smirked to herself at his poor attempt of a cover up.

"Rachel," he continued. "I'm so proud of you. You are one of our biggest success stories and no matter what happens with _Funny Girl_, you're in New York; you're living your dream, not many people can say that."

"I know; it's a special and wonderful thing. And when I'm at Radio City, and accepting my Tony Award and I forget to thank you, well, thank you."

"Thank_ you._"

They both smiled. And even though the other couldn't see it, they could feel it.

XXX

Another two Glee rehearsals came and went with no word from Finn. Maybe he was still upset over their feud over Emma a few weeks ago.

He decided on another text: **I'm getting a little worried about you. Please text me so I know that you're okay.**

XXX

iPhone fell; plummeting to the floor with a dull thud that shattered the screen. Heart beat quickened, pumping the blood quickly, echoing loudly in her ears. Hand flew to her heart, clutching at the sweater she wore. Body followed the path of her phone as she landed harshly beside it.

Her eyes were wide; her breath was deep, yet somehow too shallow, her brain not getting enough oxygen. This was what a real-life panic attack felt like. Before this moment, hyperventilating had been a tactic she'd used; a last resort to get what she wanted. The walls were closing in quickly, suffocating her, making her feel out of control. Her lower lip quivered as she tried to convince herself to wake up from this nightmare, convince herself that this was not actually happening.

_Wake up Rachel Berry. Wake UP. This is a __dream__. You are having a __terrible__ nightmare. You must Wake. Up. Now!_

Slapping herself harshly to get back to reality, she realized it stung. It was real—oh God—it was all real.

The nineteen year old diva rocked herself back and forth on her knees. She started shaking; the words her father had just told her began to sink in.

Finn Hudson was dead.

It sounded so impossible—he couldn't be dead. This had to be just some cruel joke that someone made up so that she would come home. Finn had to still be alive. He still had so much to live for, so much left to show the world. They were supposed to get married, have children, grow old together. It wasn't supposed to be this way. It couldn't be.

The lump in her throat grew into the size of a tennis ball, too hard for her to swallow. Her eyes stung as tears streamed freely down her cheeks. She didn't know that she could ever cry so hard. Choking on her own sobs, she threw her head back against the wall.

Their last conversation still fresh in her mind: He had given her the perfect advice on what song to sing for her audition. He had said that he would come visit her again soon and stay longer. He'd promised her.

XXX

Rachel Berry, Kurt Hummel, and Santana Lopez barely spoke at all over the next few days as they made their travel plans to get back to Lima, Ohio.

Puffy-eyed and devastated, Rachel leaned on Kurt, unable to keep herself from crying. Five minutes had been the longest she had gone without her eyes welling up.

The moment Kurt and Santana had returned from the movies that same awful night was still on replay in his mind as he silently sat beside Rachel.

They had walked into their apartment to find what looked like they had been robbed, everything had been trashed.

"Wow, _man hands_, next time you wanna rearrange the living room, think you could run it by us first?"

Santana's teasing stopped abruptly as soon as she saw Rachel sprawled out on the floor, hysterically crying.

The reality of what happened to her ex-boyfriend hurt too much. She didn't know how she was going to be able to form the words to tell either of her roommates what had happened without passing out again from her hyperventilation.

Santana took Finn's death really hard. She had cried when Rachel had finally calmed down enough to sob out the awful news. There were so many memories she had of Finn and they almost all broke her heart. She had been his first. His kindness exceeded all her expectations of how a person could be. When he had found out that she was a lesbian and wanted to be in a relationship with Brittany, he had been the most supportive. He had always been there for her whenever she needed someone—no questions asked.

The more she dwelled on his death, the less sad she was and the angrier she became. It wasn't right that she—the biggest bitch—was still here, while Finn Hudson—the best person you could ever meet—was no longer alive.

She now sat next to Rachel, stroking her hand, unsure of how to comfort her.

The threesome sat together, silently crying as they flew over Pennsylvania toward home.

XXX

"Thank you all for coming." Burt Hummel stood beside his wife and son in front of the many friends and family members that gathered to celebrate the life of his stepson.

"While he may not have been my flesh and blood, Finn was my son. He was Kurt's brother. Carole, you raised one hell of a kid that grew up before my eyes into one incredible, respectable man. One that none of us will ever forget, no matter what. It may not be fair that we didn't get to see this man grow old, but what he has done in his time here on earth is far greater than any other individual I have ever met. He may not have been given a lifetime, but he has taught me to spend every waking moment doing what I can for others. That is what Finn believed. That is what we should strive for. Finn was a great man, a wonderful friend, a terrific son, and loved by any and all who knew him. I wish you all peace in this most difficult time."

_**Born to amuse, to inspire, to delight  
Here one day  
Gone one nigh****t**_

_**Like a sunset**_  
_**Dying with the rising of the moon**_  
_**Gone too soon**_

Michael Jackson's _**Gone too Soon**_


	2. Chapter 2 - I Will Remember You

**Chapter 2**

The Hummel/Hudson home was filled with the sound of the fifty or more people who had gathered after Finn's service.

There were family members who had come in from out of town. There were friends, classmates, parents, and teachers from William McKinley High School and The University of Lima, along with neighbors and a few others Rachel wasn't sure of.

All the members of the Glee Club, old and new, managed to find each other. They needed to be with familiar company right now—it was the only thing that felt somewhat right.

Puck—it was the first time she had seen him since they'd graduated and she'd moved to New York—walked over toward the group after grabbing a beer from one of the coolers. His left hand was shoved inside his black sweatshirt pocket—he had been the only one who hadn't come dressed in appropriate funeral attire; figures—wearing a look that simply echoed how lost they were all feeling.

"Noah," Rachel managed to croak out as she stood from where she was seated next to Kurt on the couch. She walked over to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He just stood there, not hugging her back, staring blankly ahead.

When she finally loosened her grip on him, she noticed that he had dark circles under his eyes. She imagined that her eyes probably looked very similar. The combination of lack of sleep and amount of sobbing she had been doing over the past few days was taking its toll.

She stuffed her hand inside of his sweatshirt pocket, lacing their fingers together.

He looked at her then. It was like the trance that he had been in had finally broken. "Rachel," he breathed.

"Yeah," she sniffled back, squeezing his hand in reassurance. "It's me."

Pulling their hands out together, she dragged him over to sit on the couch with her and the other members of _The New Directions_.

They all sat in silence for a long time, no one sure of what to say.

"How are we supposed to handle this?" It was Sam who spoke out first.

Just then Will Schuester and Emma Pillsbury walked up to the group. They were standing close together, but not holding hands, Rachel noticed, as she and the others looked up toward them.

Their Glee Coach cleared his throat. "May we join you?" he asked.

No one really spoke too loudly, but they all agreed with a series of head nods and groans.

"This is so ridiculous," Santana spoke up in her bitchy, know-it-all tone. "It's not fair—none of us are even twenty—we shouldn't have to be dealing with this shit yet."

He was supposed to be their teacher, but all he could do was look at her. Anything he said in response wouldn't be what they needed to hear. She was right after all. They shouldn't have to burying one of their own—it was far too soon for that—especially one as talented and full of life as Finn had been.

"I think we should go around the circle here," the young Guidance Councilor said as happily as she could, but her tone was uneven since all she wanted to do was cry. "We should come up with the things we all loved about Finn. It may help us to feel better."

"No offense Ms. Pillsbury, but how will reminding us of who we lost make us feel _any _better?" Mercedes Jones chimed in.

Ms. Pillsbury bit her lip, looking down at her hands. "You're hurting, Mercedes. You all are." She looked back up, making eye contact with them. "Remembering the good times will help you with closure; you'll see—I'll go first." After a moment's pause, she cleared her throat. "Finn had an exceptional heart. He always wanted to do right by people." She sniffled then, her voice catching in her throat as a tear broke free and rolled down her cheek.

"He saw the best in everyone," Joe Hart stated simply. "I mean, I didn't know him all that well, but I could tell that he didn't judge people."

Santana knew from experience that not judging people was one of his greatest gifts. She knew that he was the one who made her feel okay about being different. "He was a leader," she said through her tears, "never a follower. And he was the only one who wasn't afraid to stand up to me and tell me how it was. As much as I hate to say it, I needed that."

"Yeah," Brittany S. Pierce added. "He always made me feel good about myself. Even when he called me an idiot one time, he apologized right away and made it right. Plus, he liked my drawings."

Everyone smiled a little at that, knowing about the blonde's crayon masterpieces.

"At least, he always said he did," she finished with an afterthought. Santana put a comforting hand on her ex-girlfriend's thigh.

"Finn was an amazing friend and teacher," Marley said. "I didn't know him for long at all, but I learned a lot from him. We all did."

Kurt looked around the circle and sat up a little straighter, feeling somewhat enlightened at the new additions to the group. Their gentle smiles lifted his spirits slightly. "Growing up, I had always wanted a sibling. When my dad and Carole told me and Finn that they were getting married, Finn wasn't exactly thrilled. But then," he paused, a tear falling from his eye. "Then he—he danced with me at their wedding and made me feel the most accepted that I have _ever_ felt in my entire life. He really was the best brother one could ever ask for."

"He really was a _terrible_ dancer though," Tina Cohen-Chang tried to joke through her obvious pain and broken sobs.

Mike agreed, "_So_ bad."

Rachel felt the reality sinking in around her all over again; almost as if she was re-living the news. The walls were getting too close and she needed to escape.

"I—I'm sorry," she choked out as she stood. "I have to go." She bolted out of the room, running up the staircase as quickly as her legs would carry her.

"This is good guys," their teacher stated softly. "Keep it up; I'll go talk to her." They all nodded their heads, everyone in agreement.

"Finn was my first boyfriend," he heard Quinn start as he walked up the stairs to find the brokenhearted NYADA student. He was relieved that Rachel had left the room when she did. Will knew that _that_ specific memory would have been a very difficult one to swallow.

He leaned his forehead against the only door of the upstairs that was closed. He knocked gently, "Rachel?" he asked the dark room, as he entered carefully.

"Please go away, Mr. Schuester. I really just want to be alone right now."

She was facedown on the bed that sat in the middle of the room, crying into a blue cased pillow.

His shoulders slumped and his heart ached at the sight of his graduated student, silently sobbing over her ex-boyfriend's untimely death. He felt like he was going to be sick. He was being so selfish. The only thing that was going through Will's head was the way he had left things with him. True, he had said that they could put the kiss that he and Emma had shared behind them, but he hadn't actually done that. He still held it against him—even in his death—he was so ashamed. Will and Finn had somehow become brothers in their time together throughout his years at McKinley and even the year after graduation.

He licked his lips, not knowing what he could say to console her. "Well, I'll be downstairs if you need—"

"How am I supposed to go on without him?"

Her question had been more rhetorical, he knew, but she was grieving, she needed someone. _She needed Finn_, he admitted to himself. The tears in his eyes were not as free flowing as hers, but were still present.

"You are the strongest person I know, Rachel. You always have been. You always will be." He shut the door and sat down on the edge of what he could only assume was Finn's bed.

She looked up at the man who was now seated beside her, through the blurry tears that stained her angelic face.

"Finn was my rock, my _everything_," she sniffled.

He tucked a stray strand of hair that had stuck to her soaked cheek. "You are your own rock Rachel," he said looking into her red eyes. He pulled himself up so that his legs were on the bed too, drawing himself nearer to her. "You will see; everything will be all right. I promise."

She flung herself into his embrace, sobbing silently into his strong arms. She hadn't realized just how much she actually needed him. The two of them stayed that way for a long while. He cried with her, speaking now and again a few words of comfort into her hair until they both fell asleep.

XXX

Emma and Will sat up in bed together, separated, one on either side like there was an invisible divider between the two of them.

"I just—I can't believe he's gone." Will raked a tired hand over his face, looking up at a spot on the ceiling, a single tear falling onto his cheek. "He was so young, Em." He glanced at the woman beside him in bed, anxiously wringing her hands together.

"Em," he said kindly, trying to call to her. She was so far away when she did that. When repeating himself, only louder also didn't work, he put a hand up to hers. "Em—STOP!" he half-shouted.

Their eyes met, pulling her out of her trance-like state. "Oh, Will," she sobbed, throwing herself onto him—more dramatically than even the known diva Rachel Berry had, he noted—her chest heaving. "It's all so senseless!"

"Why are you taking this so hard?" he huffed. Even though he was touched that his fiancé was taking the death of one of his students so seriously, he couldn't help the jealous feeling that began to rise in the pit of his stomach.

"Is it because he kissed you?" the question was out of his mouth before he was able to think twice about it.

Her doe eyes went hollow, pulling slowly away from her future husband. "I can't keep having this same fight with you, Will. Over and over; it seems like it's all we talk about lately—that _stupid_ mistake of a kiss. How long are you going to keep bringing this up?"

Before he could even muster an apology for his dumb question, Emma continued on.

"He's dead_,_ Will—_dead_—and I am sad. Am I not allowed to grieve like everybody else? You know what? Don't answer that. I am going to go to my place. I think I need my space away from you tonight."

XXX

Rachel awoke much later that evening. She noticed the clock's green glow that sat atop her bedside table; it was nearly midnight. It was the longest she'd slept in a week. It had been Mr. Schue who had been there, who had comforted her enough to sleep. The memory brought a small smile to her face that faded just about as quickly as it surfaced.

_When did she get home? How did she get into her bed and into her pajamas, nonetheless?_

She pulled her sheets back, removing her phone from its place on the table. She stepped onto the soft rug on the hardwood floors, jumping slightly when she saw the sight of Blaine stirring in his sleep. She then noticed Kurt sound asleep beside him and her heart rate returned to normal—well, what had been normal for her since this awful week began.

Creeping quietly across her room to her bathroom door hook, she put on her bathrobe and made her way down stairs.

She sank into the couch, covering herself with the faux fur blanket and turned her phone on so that she could look at her photos of her and Finn. They had so many special memories together.

Even though he was no longer living, his smile was still as contagious as ever. She couldn't help the butterflies she felt just looking at his face. He would always be her happy place—no matter what happened in her life. Yes, looking at his photos made her sad, but they also managed to somehow lift her spirits. He would always be her sunshine, her drive, her support, her everything. He was her first love and she had been so certain that he was supposed to be her last. She was so positive that he would always be there.

_**I'm so tired, but I can't sleep**_

_**Standin' on the edge of something much too deep**_

_**It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word**_

_**We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard**_

_**But I will remember you**_

_**Will you remember me?**_

_**Don't let your life pass you by**_

_**Weep not for the memories**_

_**I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to lose**_

_**Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose**_

_**Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night**_

_**You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light**_

_**And I will remember you**_

_**Will you remember me?**_

_**Don't let your life pass you by**_

_**Weep not for the memories**_

Sarah McLachlan's _**I Will Remember You**_


	3. Chapter 3 - Broken

**3  
Broken**

The Berry family—LeRoy, Hiram, and Rachel—was seated in the kitchen. Hiram and LeRoy were talking among themselves at the kitchen table about what they could possibly do to help get their only daughter through her misery. Rachel sat silently at the breakfast bar staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, holding so tightly to her mug of tea that her knuckles had turned white.

"I just don't know, Hiram. He was the love of her life. What are we supposed to do? We can't simply say _get over it_, it's not that easy."

"I didn't say it was, but—"

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, interrupting his train of thought.

"Noah," Hiram said in honest surprise to see the town's known bad-boy turned glee clubber on his front porch.

"Hey Mr. B," Puck said, lifting his gaze only slightly. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets. "Is Berry—uh, Rachel—here?"

Normally his response would have been _no way in hell is my daughter spending time outside school with this punk,_ but considering the recent circumstances, he felt inclined to let the boy in. With a sigh, he waved him inside. "She's in the kitchen."

The teenager stepped inside and through the house into the kitchen. Rachel looked about as good as he was feeling, he noted—like shit.

"Rachel, honey," Hiram said softly, pulling her from her thoughts and gaze from the floor.

When she looked up and saw him standing there, a very small amount of joy filled her. "Hey," she said with a small smile.

"Look, um, a few of us from school are going to _Breadsticks_ later." He raked his hand over the back of his neck, up to his mohawk nervously. "It was Finn's favorite, so we thought it'd be nice to go. You weren't answering your phone, so I thought I'd drop by to let you know what we were doing."

She sighed, setting her mug down on the counter where she sat. "I don't know, Noah. I don't really feel like going anywhere."

"I think that sounds like a good idea sweetie," LeRoy chimed in, now rising from the table, stepping closer to her. "It'll get you out of the house, clear your head some. You need to be around other people right now."

"Our reservation's at eight," Puck stated simply. When she didn't respond, he nodded to Rachel's dads and headed back out toward the front door.

"You really should go sweetie," Leroy coaxed. "I think it could be really good for you. You could use a night out."

"I don't _need_ a night out," she huffed. _I need Finn_, she thought sadly to herself.

"Well, we don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to," Hiram said looking toward his partner. "But if you change your mind, we would be more than happy to drive you over later."

XXX

The view from where she was on the floor was hazy. _Where was she? How did she get here?_ She pulled herself up by the white, cold object above her. The feeling of nausea rose quicker than it ever had before. Luckily she was at the rim of the toilet in a matter of only a few seconds.

"Berry?" Puck shouted, pounding heavily on the door.

"Noah?" she croaked barley able to open her eyes.

The sound of his voice behind the closed door was suddenly joined by an intoxicated sounding Santana who was crying uncontrollably. "Come on, Puckerman, you know Berry doesn't love you like I do. Don't you love me anymore? I know you used to."

"Get off my girlfriend, Puck," she heard Brittany say as she too joined the duo at the bathroom door.

"Dude—_she's_ the one who's all over _me_!" The three broke out into an argument that Rachel was sure would somehow end up in a twisted threesome by the end of the evening. The thought sickened her and made her stomach do a somersault, achieving more contents into the porcelain bowl.

"Rachel?" The new voice at the door was panicked and singsong like. _Speaking of porcelain_, she thought semi-amusingly to herself. The awful pet name Sue Sylvester had conjured for her homosexual friend was rude, but somehow suited him well and he wore it proudly.

She sobbed silently, feeling out of control. Every time she tried to stand, she couldn't move an inch. She wanted to vomit; she wanted to cry. At least she was somewhat feeling again, something other than the grief that she had been feeling for the past couple weeks.

The door handle rattled. _Crap, why had she locked the door?_

"I got this Kurt," she heard their old glee coach.

_Oh God, why was he here?_

"Rachel—sweetie?" he asked the closed door. After too long of a pause, he sighed. "I'm—I'm coming in."

She heard the faint sound of the lock being turned—the key must have been above the door frame—as she felt her vision become fuzzy again. She sat back against the bathtub to support herself. She pulled her knees up toward her chest, as to shield her from further embarrassment.

The crumpled mess that was Rachel on the tile floor horrified him. She had managed to puke mostly in the toilet, but had also gotten some on her clothes. She looked a disaster. He had to get her out of here as soon as he could.

"I—I don't know how I," her lips trembled as she tried to form the words that were a jumbled mess inside her head.

"Shh," he cooed. "It's all right, Rach. I got you now—let's get you cleaned up." He picked her up bridal style and sat her on the counter next to the sink. He quickly looked through the medicine cabinet and the drawers, relieved to find what he needed was there.

Her body swayed lightly, she could feel it, but she couldn't tell just how far she was tipping. He was there again in heartbeat, steadying her. "Whoa there," he said gently, his small crooked smile present.

He soaked a soft washcloth under the tap, allowing it to become warm before cleaning the dried vomit from her mouth. He rinsed it and then proceeded to wipe down her navy blue dress.

"You doing okay?" he asked.

Since she was on the counter, they were much closer to the same height, closer to eye level, yet he was still slightly taller—but only by a few inches. She nodded trying to steady herself with her hands that gripped the edge of the counter.

"I'm glad Kurt called me when he did."

_So that was why he was there._ "Me too," she managed to get out, actually grateful for his presence.

"Why'd you drink so much?" She could tell by the tone of his voice that it was out of concern rather than a scolding.

"I don't know. I don't even really remember all that happened; my head hurts."

He shook his head, wringing the small towel out again and placing its warmth against her left temple where she was holding her fingers to it.

She pressed her hand atop his instinctively to help hold the cloth in place. The tingling sensation she felt under the heat of his gaze was surprising, especially since she could hardly feel anything due to the buzz from the alcohol.

His breath hitched at the way she was looking at him. _Why was she looking at him like he was some damn hero? _He blinked a couple times, ridding his head of the thought, convincing himself that it was just the alcohol. "I've got to get you home; I don't want your dads to worry."

She shook her head, mirroring his prior action, sighing again, "Please don't make me go home. I don't want them to see me like this—they'll never let me go out again."

"And I wouldn't blame them, Rachel!" his voiced snapped back, pulling himself slightly away from her, harshly slamming the cloth onto the counter top next to her thigh. "You were kind of being reckless tonight. It's like you were trying to get yourself killed!"

Will knew that he had a short fuse, but his temper had been even shorter since the news of Finn's death.

He thought so highly of his glee kids, respected each and every single one of them so much, that when they did something _stupid_, he didn't know how to handle it. He put their safety strangely above his own, but especially Rachel's these past few weeks. She was just so fragile right now.

She nibbled at her full lower lip, trying to refrain from crying. The words and his tone stung. "Trying to get myself _killed_?" she repeated in question.

He realized what he had said and how much it probably hurt to hear those words; it was too soon. "I'm sorry," he said, his shoulders slumping slightly, his tone was back to the gentle man she knew and cared so much about. "I didn't mean it the way it came out." The older man looked back into her eyes, continuing to stroke the spot on her temple that was hurting her with the warm washcloth. He saw the sadness there; she was broken and in so much pain.

He felt like an ass for having made such an insensitive remark. "Fine," he said through a long exaggerated sigh. "But you can't stay here with the others. I don't want you drinking anymore."

When she looked at him, her face a question mark, he sighed again. "I guess you can crash at my place tonight. Emma's been sleeping at her house the past few weeks anyway. I'll take the couch." He broke their eye contact, placing the wash rag into what looked to him like a laundry bin under the sink.

"Thanks," she replied softly.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so," she breathed shakily.

He put a hand on either side of her waist, bringing her down from the counter.

"Are you going to be able to walk to my car?"

She nodded, even though her legs felt very shaky. He could tell after only a few steps that it would be nearly impossible for her to get outside—_how much did this girl drink?_

"No; you can't," he stated firmly and she was back in his arms almost instantly. "Did you bring a purse or anything?" He recalled all the times he'd had to carry Terri's purse in the past.

"Just my clutch," she said just loud enough so he could hear. "I think it's on the bed in the next room over."

He nodded, bringing her into the room. The bed held a litter of purses and jackets. She pointed to a small pouch that held her cell phone, a few important cards, and her ID. He grabbed it, as well as the red coat that was beside it. He knew it was hers, recognized it as the coat she had been sent off to NYADA wearing.

The two exited through Noah Puckerman's parent's house. Will fell back into _teacher mode_, telling them all that it was time to wrap things up and go home. "I hope you all drank responsibly tonight. But since I'm already here, do any of the rest of you need a ride home?"

"My mom's on her way now," Artie said with a small hiccup. "Brittany, Santana, and Quinn are catching a ride with me."

"Kurt's dad is picking us up soon too," Blaine echoed.

Tina giggled as she leaned on Blaine's shoulder. "And I'll catch a ride with you guys."

"Sure," he said, but didn't sound completely smitten with the idea.

"Sam and Mike are spending the night," Puck added proudly.

"It sounds like everyone's covered then. Please be safe. Have your parents text me when they get everyone home," it hadn't been a request.

The fact that Rachel was so light made getting to his car relatively easy. The trickiest part was getting the car unlocked as he held her in his arms. With a little clever maneuvering, he managed to get the keys out of his pocket—something he realized would have been easier had he done it _before_ he'd picked her up—and place them in the door's lock. He then proceeded to seat Rachel inside and assist with her seatbelt.

Once he was in on the other side, he put his keys into the ignition, starting the car. He looked at the girl that sat beside him. She looked so beyond tired, yet her eyes were open. _Had she slept at all since Finn's funeral?_

Will raked a shaky hand through his curls, "Rachel, you should probably call your dads and let them what's going on."

She pulled her phone from her clutch. Looking down at the screen, she saw that she had actually been in contact with them throughout the evening, not that she really remembered. She glanced up at the man beside her and shook her head.

"It looks like I told them I was spending the night at Quinn's," she said, her speech tired, slower than she normally spoke, holding up her cell phone.

He glanced at her phone and then looked over his shoulder, pulling out into the street from where he had been parked along the curb. "Well, you're no longer spending the night at Quinn's. Unless you want; I can drop you off there instead."

"To be honest, even just being in the same room with her has been hard. She reminds me too much of Finn," Rachel said sadly. "Normally I wouldn't lie to my dads about this either, but I don't really feel like explaining everything—not now, at least. They wouldn't understand why I'm spending the night at your house anyway."

He swallowed hard, feeling his throat dry slightly. _Why did he suddenly feel like he was doing something wrong? _He simply nodded his head in reply.

She looked down at her phone again, deciding that he was right. She really should text them one last time before the night was over to assure them that she was safe.

**Good night daddy. I love you both! 3**

Rachel turned her phone off then, trying to reserve at least some battery power for the morning, before returning it to her clutch.

"I texted them," she said through a yawn. "Thanks again, Mr. Schue; I really appreciate it."

He shook his head, trying to reason with himself that he was in fact doing _nothing_ inappropriate. But the words she had used made him feel strange. He kept his eyes on the road ahead of him and gripped the steering wheel probably a little too tightly than necessary.

"It's no trouble, Rachel," he said once he found his voice again. He chanced a glance toward the girl in his passenger seat. She wore a small smile that wasn't hers, one she'd borrowed from someone who was depressed and lonely; broken.

_**I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
With a broken heart that's still beating  
In the pain, there is healing  
In your name I find meaning  
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
I'm barely holdin' on to you**_

Lifehouse's _**Broken**_


End file.
